


It's always been you

by kawaiirun



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Best Friends, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiirun/pseuds/kawaiirun
Summary: “What do you see in those women, Jean?”“What?” Jean reluctantly lifts his head off the table to shoot Kain a questioning look.“The girls you try to pick up here, or at work. Sure, they're cute, they have a nice smile, but beyond that. What do you want in a partner?”





	It's always been you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merel/gifts).



“I give up.” Jean announces to the table, throwing himself onto the seat of the booth as dramatically as he can. He lets his head thud against the table and groans into the cheap wood, his only comfort a pat on the back from Breda. Kain, however, offers no such support. He instead smiles into his glass, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Hey, you’ll find someone.” Breda reassures as he had many, many times before, idly sipping his drink. “You're a real catch, Hav.” And though his words were nothing but genuine, Jean had trouble believing them in that moment.

“Tell that to the girls by the bar.” He casts a tired glance up at Breda, and even in the dim lighting of the club, he looks utterly pathetic with his cheek squished against the table. He’s sure that those little minxes were laughing behind his back at his attempts at flirting. Serves him right for refusing Breda’s offer for a wingman. He just wanted to prove that he could court a girl himself. He reaches for the closest drink, namely not his, but Kain swipes it off the table before he can snatch it and he whimpers.

“Sorry Jean, but if I gave you my drink every time you got rejected, I'd be out of money.” He can't help but roll his eyes as Jean whines more. “And God knows I need alcohol to deal with your sorry arse.” He mumbles, prompting a kick under the table from Breda. Kain shoots him a look, one that says _‘it's true’._

Breda rises from his seat and knocks back the rest of his drink. “Maybe I _will_ talk to those girls while I get us another round.” He huffs, less than pleased at Jean’s dejection. Even if it was just failing to pick up a girl at a bar, the rejection never got easier for either of them to deal with. Sometimes, he didn't know what hurt more; having to comfort Jean during his heartbreak, knowing that things could be different with him, or seeing Jean happy with someone else and being reminded that he had little chance with him. Part of him feels guilty that the choice isn't as easy as it should be, but he banishes the thought for now. It was time to do what he did best: get absolutely tit faced with Jean so he could feel better for at least one night. He ignores Jean’s muffled protests and leaves for the bar, letting Jean wallow in his misery.

Kain is less sympathetic, if only because _he_ has been preoccupied dealing with _Breda’s_ own heartbreak over Jean, whether he admitted it to himself or not. It was painfully obvious to him that Breda was a much better choice, if Jean only gave him the chance, and any pity he may have had was lost in irritation at them both. Mixing the remainders of his cocktail with his straw, he hums in thought.

“What do you see in those women, Jean?”

“What?” Jean reluctantly lifts his head off the table to shoot Kain a questioning look.

“The girls you try to pick up here, or at work. Sure, they're cute, they have a nice smile, but beyond that. What do you want in a partner?” He puts his glass back down, the ice clinking gently against it.

“I dunno.” Jean sighs and pulls his pack of cigs out, slipping one out of the box. He considers it carefully, rolling the question around in his head as he fishes for his lighter. He hadn't expected it to throw him off so much, but maybe it was the way Kain peered over the rim of his glasses, as if he was already judging his answer. “Someone who can deal my smoking would be a good start.” He snorts as he flicks open the lighter, lighting it and taking a long, contemplative drag. The smoke surrounds them in a sort of haze, and he feels better already.

“Okay, can tolerate your bad habits, anything else?”

“She’s gotta make me laugh. Can't deal with a bitch who acts like she's got a stick up her ass.” He bitterly remembers the dates that couldn't take a joke. At least Breda had found it funny afterwards, though he wasn't sure if he was laughing at the joke or laughing at Jean.

“Right, funny. Someone who shares your sense of humour.”

“Yeah. I wanna be able to make her laugh too.” He taps his cigarette on the ashtray, looking at the subtle orange glow of the ashes. “Ah, what's the point. It's so hard to find a girlfriend while workin’ military.” He laments, and Kain leans forward a little.

“You could always find someone who works in the same field as you.”

“Sure, but I can count the number of female soldiers at our base on two hands.” He’s pretty sure that's an exaggeration, but it sure felt like that sometimes, never mind the ones who would actually date him. Kain regards him flatly, but he doesn't notice.

“But a fellow soldier would understand what you go through.”

“Yeah, someone who really gets me.” He nods in agreement. Who could deal with his constant smoking and his anxiety ridden ass. Who would partake in his dumb jokes or maybe a prank every now and then. Who accepted that he worked in the military, was willing to deal with the risk that came with it, and support him in his goals. And even if they didn't get it all, they were at least willing to try to understand. Someone he could laugh _and_ cry with, who he was close with, who was always there for him. Someone like...

And, as if reading his mind, Kain brings his thoughts to a screeching halt. “Someone you could call a best friend, perhaps?”

His eyes widen at the implication and his cigarette falls from his mouth, rolling across the table. He stares hard at Kain, but the little bastard betrays nothing, running a finger along the rim of his glass. He can feel the wave of heat rolling up his face to the tip of his ears, and he's thankful for the dim lights that hide his beet red cheeks. His mouth is so dry and sticky it feels like it's been glued shut, which maybe explains why he's at a loss for words.

“Something wrong?” Kain asks, oh so innocently, but it's with those two words that Jean knows he's guilty.

It is then that Breda finally returns with two glasses of whiskey and whatever fruity cocktail Kain had been sipping at, as well as a smug look on his face. He slaps the tray down along with a slip of paper, a phone number scrawled across it.

“Bam. Guess who got you a date.” Breda takes his seat next to Jean, waiting for a reaction that never comes. “Uh, didja hear me? I scored you a date with the chick by the bar, the one with the big tits.” But Jean just stares. “Geez, what were you guys talking about?” He grumbles, more than a little annoyed his efforts had gone unappreciated.

“Oh, just girls and stuff.” Kain chirps as he takes his drink, and Breda thinks he looks too pleased with himself for that to be the case.

Jean finally snaps back to the land of the living and shoves the number in his pocket. “Thanks bro.” He croaks out, and upon realising that was a mistake, he grabs his glass and chugs. Breda stares in shock as he knocks back his entire whiskey, and he can't tell if the flush in Jean’s cheeks is because of that or whatever conversation he was in.

“What did you do to him?” He demands, but Kain is suddenly very interested in the umbrella sticking out of his pina colada.

“You know what he's like when he gets rejected. Probably just wants to drink his woes away.”

By now, Jean is moving on to Breda’s drink, gulping it down like a fish out of water.

“Slow down, dude. I'm gonna be super pissed off if you throw up on me.” Breda eyes his best friend warily.

“It's fiiine.” Somehow, Breda doesn't believe him. Jean grabs Kain’s glass and abandons the straw, instead dumping the entire affair into his mouth. “Woo, okay, that's better.” Even though his head is swimming and his stomach is lurching, it's better. But then he looks at Breda, concern clearly written across his face, and his heart skips a beat. It isn't enough. “Let’s do some shots!” He declares, jumping up from the booth and bounding towards the bar.

 

* * *

 

The night ends how anyone would have expected; Breda dragging a drunk Jean home, stumbling along the empty streets, cast in the pallid yellow light of the lampposts.

Jean leans on Breda, his arm slung over his shoulders, and giggles. Breda wants to be mad, but he can't when Jean’s got that goofy grin on his face.

“Bredaaaa.” He drawls, and Breda places a hand on his chest to stop him from falling forward. “You know yer my best friend, right?”

“Why else would I be doing this?” He shakes his head, glad that the end was in sight. He helps Jean up the stairs and unlocks his door with practiced ease, leading him to his room. Jean flops on the bed as soon as he’s released, and he squirms his way under the covers.

“Alright, I better see you at work tomorrow, hangover or not.” He pulls the blanket over Jean’s shoulders with a hint of a fond smile. “You big idiot.”

Jean stares at him like he's looking up at the stars, and reaches for the sky. Before he can react, he grabs Breda’s collar and yanks him down, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. Breda’s entire body seizes up, but Jean merely pushes more effort into the kiss, years of tension finally being released into one world shattering moment. Eventually, Breda finds himself reciprocating, savouring the taste of tobacco and vodka and the cherry lip balm he knows Jean uses. He melts into Jean, leaning against his broad chest, praying that this kiss would last a lifetime. And then, just like that, it was over.

The last thing Jean sees is Breda, and he smiles.

 

* * *

 

Breda had been avoiding him, which suited him just fine, because he was avoiding Breda too, except _he_ had a reason for avoiding Breda. Why was _Breda_ avoiding _him?_

The rest of the office was starting to get suspicious too, and who could blame them, considering they had been skirting around each other all week. The uncomfortable silence between them was spreading to the rest of the team, and they were reaching their limit. Kain especially seemed irate, even though this was basically his fault. That's what he told himself, anyway. But even he couldn't handle this much longer, and he resolved to confront Breda in the break room. Without alcohol.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

He had been puffing smoke like a goddamn chimney all day, leg jiggling, fingers tapping, anxiety swelling. None of this did anything to appease the tightness in his chest and the way his mind raced with everything that could go wrong. Was he about to end the best relationship he’d ever had?

His hand hovers over the door knob, palms slick with sweat. He doesn't know how long he's been standing there. He all but leaps backwards when the door opens of its own volition, and Breda is in the doorway with a mug of tea. Over the pounding in his ears, he hears Breda excuse himself, and that's all he needs to move.

“Wait!” He grabs Breda’s arm, and he stiffens at the contact. “Uh, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” Their eyes meet, and he wants to fold in on himself. But Breda simply leads them back into the break room and the door clicks shut behind them.

Breda says nothing, just looks at him expectantly, his knuckles white from how tightly he grips his mug. He puts it down on the counter in favour of crossing his arms. Jean exhales unsteadily, clearing his throat. Better to just rip the bandaid off.

“Look, about that night at the bar. Me and Fuery… we were talking.” Okay, he was sure Breda knew _that_ much. “We were… he was askin’ me about what I wanted in a partner, and I- well, you know.” He had been rehearsing this all morning, but now he couldn't get through one bloody sentence without stammering. “He made me realise something. And I hate to admit it, but he was right. I want someone who’s funny and smart, smarter than me at least, who has a great smile and an even greater laugh. Someone who knows my faults and puts up with me anyway. Someone I can call my best friend. And… that's you.” His hands are shaking now. “It's always been you.” He clenches them into fists.

“But Heymans, I wanna be more than best friends.”

The words hang in the air as soon as he lets them out, dangling in front of them. The silence is deafening, and Jean wants to be anywhere but here. He chews on his lip, waiting for something, anything. Breda is looking right through him, and he feels as though his soul has been laid bare for all to see.

Breda closes the space between them with a few steps, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a grim line. Jean braces himself for rejection, just like he had many, many times before. Instead, Breda pulls Jean down by the collar of his uniform, just like that night, and kisses him fervently. And while Jean doesn't remember the kiss itself, he remembers the feeling that came with it. It's _electric_. It sends tingles up his spine, threatens to turn his legs to jello and send them both tumbling onto the ground. And yet, he's never been more sure that this is what he wants.

He snakes his arms around Breda’s waist, pressing him flush against his chest, and Breda moans, releasing his collar. He wraps his own arms around Jean’s neck, desperate for more. He had been craving it since that night; it plagued his every thought, like an itch he could not scratch.

Finally, reluctantly, he pulls away, leaving them both gasping for breath. “T-That's payback for that night after the bar.” He shoves Jean by the chest, staring intently at the floor to avoid his gaze. His cheeks were flushed pink. He covers his mouth like he was embarrassed of what he had done, and Jean is vaguely aware of just how cute Breda looks among his other swarming thoughts.

Jean doesn't dwell on the statement for too long, his head still spinning. “What?” He manages to squeak out. Because still, still he cannot believe it. “Does this mean you-”

“Of course it does, you idiot! I've been waiting to do that since the Academy.” Breda snaps, but he sounds more tired than angry. “You’re so fucking oblivious, Jean.” He shakes his head, and silence settles over them again.

“...Why didn't you say anything?” Jean asks, but Breda’s answer makes him wish he hadn’t.

“Because I thought I couldn't be what you wanted.” Breda sighs, glancing away. Jean’s heart twist in shame. How could he make Breda feel like that? “You always talked about settling down with a nice girl, maybe have a couple of kids. A quiet, normal life. I can't give you that.”

He can only guess how Breda must have felt, keeping quiet for so long while Jean openly trampled on his feelings with all his talk of finding a girlfriend. Maybe that's why Kain was so pissy about it.

He didn't blame him.

He places his hands on Breda’s shoulders, squeezing firmly. “You _are_ everything I wanted.” He smiles, and the way Breda’s eyes light up makes all the worrying worth it. “I was just too stupid to see it.” He embraces Breda as tightly as he can, let's Breda bury his face into the crook of his shoulder. They stay like that for a little while, and Jean nuzzles the top of his redhead, delighting in how fluffy his hair felt.

Breda peeks up at Jean sheepishly. “Even if I'm not a pretty girl with big boobs?”

“Hey, that's not true. Your boobs are plenty big.” Jean laughs even as Breda punches his arm.

“You jackass.” But he's laughing too, and his smile only grows wider when he plants a kiss on Jean’s cheek.

“So… Does this mean you're not going out with Cindy from the bar?”

“And they think _I’m_ the idiot.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt from [Merel](http://stiekemekat.tumblr.com/): "Bravoc bar date. Havoc lamenting that he can't find a good woman and realising that all the traits he wants (except the boobs) are traits breda has." except, Breda does have the boobs.
> 
> i threw Fuery in for good measure since I highly doubt Havoc would figure it out on his own fast enough otherwise lmao. i really love the dynamic they could have, especially with Fuery knowing about Breda's crush and being exasperated by it. thanks for the prompt, dude. and hey! i'm taking more prompts for Team Mustang rare pairs.
> 
> i'll do anyone in whatever combination, except (obviously) Roy/Riza. polyships with them (or without) are cool tho. you can send a specific ship with the prompt, but if you don't, i'll just choose.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://vivlet-evergarden.tumblr.com/)


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